


Netflix and Tickle

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Tickle Fights, Whoops We're Making Out Now, toxic levels of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: The third time he fell asleep during her favorite movie, Caitlin vowed revenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr user who wanted to see Killervibe tickle fights.

Caitlin gripped the couch cushions and bit her bottom lip. “I love this part!”

When Cisco didn’t tease her, she looked over at the other end of the couch and gasped. “Oh my god, are you asleep? Again?”

“Wha - ” he snorted. “No. Nope. M'wake. Wha’s'hap'nin?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He shrugged. “Her little sister took off with some dude, which, whatever, she was annoying, let her.”

“Cisco, in the nineteenth century, that was a terrible thing to do and it affected your whole family.”

He shrugged again.

“You wanted to watch this movie!” she reminded him. She’d been a little surprised at his enthusiasm, to tell the truth.

“I thought it had zombies!”

And that was why. She rolled her eyes. “That’s a completely different adaptation and not a very - oh, never mind. Can you at least not snore through the romantic denouement?”

“I’m awake, God. If there’s not zombies, are they at least gonna have a really hot make-out scene?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not even answering that, and now I missed the part with her aunt’s letter.”

She couldn’t be grouchy for long, not watching this movie, and before long the romance of it had grabbed her again. She smiled dreamily as the two lovers inched their way toward the climactic confession. When they did, indeed, kiss, she looked over at him smugly.

He had his head in his hand, his eyes drooping, his mouth slightly open. He was falling asleep again.

Well, that was just it. She leaned over and poked him in the ribs.

He didn’t just jolt awake, he let out a squeal that could have shattered glass and practically levitated off the couch.

She jumped too, clapping her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god! I’m sorry! I - ”

“I’m fine!” he gasped. “Fine.”

“Did you hurt your ribs? You said you were fine after going out in the field last night - ”

“No, I’m fine, I said.”

She looked closer. He was blushing. An idea occurred. “Was that your ticklish spot?”

“ … no.”

“It was!” she gasped. “It was.” She reached for him again, and he scooted as far away as the corner of the couch would allow.

“You get away from me. I don’t trust that face.”

She grinned devilishly and lunged for him.

He shrieked and squirmed, laughing helplessly. “Get off, get off!”

“You fell asleep three times during my favorite movie!” she giggled. “I deserve revenge.”

“And I - deserve to - defend my - self!” he gasped, and started tickling her back.

They squirmed and wrestled over the couch, knocking pillows to the floor, shrieking and laughing. Their arms tangled, and their legs, and suddenly, Caitlin was on her back and Cisco’s mouth was on hers and he was kissing her and she was kissing him back.

Oh, said her brain. Well. Here was a thing.

Not that she’d never thought of it - of this - the way their bodies fit together and the fullness of his mouth and his hands on her skin. She was human, after all. But it had always been idle.

The way he kissed her wasn’t idle. His fingers tangled in her hair, and his body was solid and warm on hers, (but not heavy; his knees and elbows were taking his weight) and he sucked at her lower lip and sighed when she licked his.

He lifted his head.

They panted for a moment, noses brushing, staring at each other from extremely close proximity. The ends of his hair tickled her face. She could see each individual eyelash in the light from the TV, and the warmth of his breath fanned over her lips.

She thought, _What is this?_ and saw the answer in his eyes: _I don’t know._

He glanced over. “Credits are rolling,” he told her. “Your movie’s over.”

Without looking away, she reached out for the remote, sitting on the coffee table, and clicked off the TV, plunging the room into darkness. She dropped it on the floor and put her hand to his face, pulling him back down to meet her mouth again. Under her fingers, she could feel his cheeks round, and his smile pressed to her lips.

They kissed more, slower, focused, exploring each other. She squirmed her shoulders against the couch cushions, getting in a more comfortable position, and hooked her knee over his hip so they settled closer together. He sighed and trailed kisses across her jaw and down her neck.

She stroked her hand down his side. They’d rucked up his shirt, during the tickle fight or the kissing or both, she didn’t know. She ran her fingertips featherlight over the ticklish spot that had started all this.

This time, instead of squealing, he let out a deep moan against her skin. The sound skimmed over her nerve endings, lighting the last of them up like a Christmas tree.

Funny how one little shift could change everything.

FINIS


End file.
